Mike washing my hair is something I would trade the skin
on my palms for. His hands are big and
strong and cradle my whole skull while each of his fingers push the tension out
of my scalp. I don’t really care what my
hair looks or smells like- the quality of the wash job isn’t really my concern. Now the only problem is, finding time for us
to “wash my hair” with two kiddos in the house.
Inevitably, one will interrupt us when it’s the least convenient. We even
waited till the boys were both down for the night and of course, Reed showed up
at the shower door with his teddy bear under his arm.
The race was awesome, save for the small hiccup at mile
10 on the bike. The morning was going
great, Mike’s race started at 7:30 that morning and he finished his sprint
triathlon with enough time to make sure I was all set and ready to race my Olympic
distance tri at 9. I’d asked Cassie to
come just in case there was some overlap- so she was there to play with the
boys and me during Mike’s race. One big
difference between the RedMan and my last triathlon at Arcadia lake is that
Hefner lake in September is usually wetsuit legal. Oh how I love my wetsuit! And what difference the buoyancy makes. No longer did I have to worry about sinking,
all I had to do was move my arms and legs and I was swimming. The length was 3x the distance as my last
triathlon, so my 1500 meter swim was expected to take me about 45 minutes. The water felt amazing, the sky was
crayon-blue with cartoonish puffy white clouds.
My new goggles didn’t fog in the slightest and I did the whole swim
without turning onto my back. My goal
for the run was to not have to walk, which funny enough, was also my goal for
the swim. The lake was so shallow that
about 75% of it was walkable for the athletes. And walk it they did! It looked so ridiculous, that I vowed to
myself that I’d swim every bit of it.
The goal is to swim/bike/run. Not swim or run, whichever is faster or
easier. So I head out on the bike and I’m
feeling great, no problems in transition with my gear, no issues getting onto
my bike and accelerating out onto the course and no concerns about energy or
anything else. I was feeling great!
The bike course was 4 loops, and I had my first loop
done. I was thinking about where I could really push, where I could make up the
most time and where I could get some active recovery in. Almost halfway through my second lap, I
noticed a guy pass me for the second time and I started thinking about going
faster and strategizing. The bike is supposed
to be my sport and yet someone can pass me twice already? I call myself a
cyclist? Was I even moving forward? I got so caught up in my thoughts and I was
so inside my head that when I was jerked violently back to reality I suddenly
realized I was at an intersection and it was time to turn NOW. Not soon, but NOW. I had to decide what to do. I was in my drops on my road bike, so I
already had poor handling and reaching my brakes was going to make me even more
unsteady. Do I focus on the handling and
try to make the turn at that speed? Or do I brake and try to get my speed down
enough to turn at a more comfortable pace? I braked with my right hand, and
when I realized I wasn’t going to make the turn anyway, and I was headed
through the cones of the lane reserved for the event and into traffic, I flung my left hand out and behind me with my palm
facing the approaching car in a very “STOP” kind of signal. This was before I lost all control and
slammed down into the pavement, sliding, skinning and jamming. I lay there for a couple of beats, pausing at
the reality of it all and letting what just happened sink in. I’m thinking, “Son of a…!!” and I slam my
hands down onto the road in anger and frustration and immediately cringe from
the pain I just stupidly caused myself with that action. The car was stopped a few feet away from
where I landed in the road with my bike and I jumped up and drug my bike to the
side of the road so he could be on his way.
I felt embarrassed and tried to wave him on but he stayed put, a face of
shock looking at me through the windshield. All the while athletes are passing
and shouting out concerns, “Are you okay? Are you sure?” and the officer
stationed at that intersection had made his way over to check on me as
well. I was already pulling tape off the
frame of my bike to wrap around my palm, frantically trying to figure out a way
to make it possible to get on my bike and finish the race. The officer asked if I was okay and I looked
at him and said, “Seriously, I need you to tell me. Do you see anything??” I didn’t see any bones
sticking out, but I wasn’t sure if I was just missing something completely
serious. All I could really feel was my
hand and my ankle. He confirmed that
those looked the most serious and offered to get more tape from his car, but I
was anxious to be on my way because, of course, now I had to make up even more
time!
I said, “Okay, I think I’m going to go.”
And he said, “Okay, but you’re a bad ass.”
I put one shaking foot onto my pedal and swung the other
leg over to get back on track to finish the race. I’d trained all summer and here I was race
day- my first Olympic distance race and I was doing it, I was in the middle of
it. I had nothing stopping me from
finishing. My bike wasn’t broken, my
bones weren’t broken, either way I’d still be sitting here today with one hand
bandaged and the other in a brace, but with no finisher medal. I needed to do it. I pedaled the remaining 18
miles and worried about my ankle swelling.
Wondering if I was going to be able to run six miles on it. Hoping my
hands would steer my bike and work my shifters and brakes. After a few miles the pain subsided and the
numbness set in, and I thought, “oh this is convenient! I wonder if I could get
two hours of this numbness to carry me through to the finish line!” The rest of the bike was uneventful in
comparison, Mike and the boys were there cheering me on and my coworker Mark
was there which means so much to me. The
first half of the run was okay, I was averaging my expected 10 minute mile pace
but on the second half, something happened and my hips started to get stiff. My
bones in my pelvis felt jammed so that each step felt like I was just pounding
my bones into the concrete sidewalk. I
walked a lot of that last 3 miles despite my constant self-bargaining and goals
to run the rest of it without walking.
I made it through the finish and an acquaintance pointed
me towards the medical tent where they effectively began to torture me. They poured peroxide on my exposed flesh and
asked me questions that seemed trivial and insignificant, “Date of birth?
Pre-race weight? Any allergies?” I wanted to say, “You’re killing me! If you’re
going to put me through this much pain, just cut it off! Amputate the hand, I
don’t want it anymore!”
I wish I had photos from my race. Mike and I were both so preoccupied by the
event itself that we did a really poor job of capturing it on our cameras. I’m hoping the race photographer got
something worth buying! It was memorable, even if slightly tainted by my little
dance with the asphalt. I’m proud of
myself and happy about beating my goal time by eleven minutes! I thought it was
a pretty aggressive goal, but after my finish and my visit to the medical tent,
I was met with a 2 year old who enthusiastically wanted to tell me, “Mommy is a
sand-bagger!”
It’s better to under-promise and over-perform, I say!
A few stats
My goal time: 3:45, (or at least under 4 hours!)
My finish time 3:34
My division place 16 out of 17 (Women 30-34) (I was 65 out of 85 total women)
My average bike speed for the 28 miles - 17.1
My 10k run 1:09, pace of 11:17
Mike's division place 1 out of 27 (age group 30-34)
Mike's overall male place 9 out of 164
Mike's avg bike speed 21.7
Mike's avg run pace 7:05
I love to brag on my husband (someone has to!) but he wasn't really happy with his performance that morning. He felt like he could have been much faster, but he was focused on my event and preoccupied with the task of spending the day out at the lake with the boys. I still think he did an amazing job and wish I could be anywhere near the natural-athlete he is!
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